Priorities
by LanternLight13
Summary: After the destruction of the Glades how will everyone survive? Oliver must reconsider his priorities when a choice comes up between old friends and new. Continuation of season one final.
1. Chapter 1

My continuation of 1x23, so set right after the season one end. It got away from me and instead of a one-shot became 4 chapters long.

Spoilers for the entire first season.

Not likely how the second season will start, but hey that's what fanfiction is for.

UPDATE (26/7/13): Due to popular demand this story is continued in a companion piece, called _Consequences. _This story was written as a beginning and is purposely open-ended, but for those who want to read on, visit my profile. Thanks to all who have reviewed and followed.

* * *

**Priorities **

**Chapter 1**

"Tommy. Tommy, open your eyes," Oliver pleaded. Not his best friend, not the person that was always there for him, no matter what fight they were having. Not his brother. "Tommy, please."

"Oliver!"

Oliver shot his head up in surprise, only now hearing someone climbing through the rubble towards them. "Digg?"

"I thought you might want some backup," he explained, moving towards Tommy's prone body, not mentioning the call he had received from Felicity, explaining the reports that several of the buildings on CNRI's street had collapsed. Taking in the gruesome sight of the iron rod protruding from the young man's chest his military training kicked in. He reached for Tommy's neck while Oliver watched on. "He's still got a pulse, Oliver," he said elatedly, immediately moving around in a flurry.

"How?" Oliver's voice cracked. "He's not breathing!"

"Then breathe for him," Diggle ordered, inspecting the iron rod. Very carefully he moved the rubble under Tommy, revealing the other end. Stripping out of his jacket and shirt, wincing at his own injuries, he wrapped a make-shift bandage around Tommy's torso, putting pressure on both sides of the wound and steadying the rod so it wouldn't move and do more damage. "If we can get him to a hospital in the next five minutes he might be able to make it."

Oliver's eyes widened and he immediately began to breathe air into his friend's lungs with a new hope. "Call my helicopter," he ordered Diggle between breaths, "and find something to use as a stretcher."

If it was possible to save Tommy then that's what he would do.

* * *

Felicity ducked subconsciously as the support beams above her groaned under pressure, but didn't stop monitoring the data streams, news feeds and police radio she had hacked into. From the basement of Verdant she was very possibly the only person in the whole city able to see the whole picture of the destruction of the Glades. She suppressed another sob and redirected an ambulance to a different hospital that had more room.

Her earpiece crackled and Diggle's voice came through, "Felicity, I need you to send the Queen's helicopter to CNRI, with medical provisions."

"Laurel?" she asked already searching the Queen server for the right network. She found it and requested an urgent flight.

"No, Tommy. It's not looking good."

"The chopper is on the way, five minutes tops. I've alerted the nearest hospital to look for an incoming helicopter. Detective Lance was heading to CNRI last I heard. If you find him get him to organise any other injured people onto the helicopter. That includes you, John."

"Roger that. Stay safe, Felicity."

He hung up on her before she could say she would. And that was when the next aftershock hit.

The support beams screamed in protest and without thinking Felicity threw herself under her desk. The electricity finally gave out and she was thrown into darkness as the ceiling collapsed.

* * *

Ripping apart one of the cheap wooden bookshelves in the law office Diggle produced a piece of wood that was long enough to act as a stretcher.

"Got it," he shouted, returning to Oliver who was still breathing for his friend. "How's his pulse?"

He paused to answer and then went right back to EAR. "Slow but mostly steady."

"That's good. Now, we just have to get him outside. We can go through the side entrance but then you'll have to disappear."

"I can't-"

"You're the Hood right now in case you forgot."

Oliver swore. "We'll get him outside and then you can go get Lance. I'll disappear and hopefully reappear as Oliver in time for the chopper. I think there is a cloths shop I can borrow from a few doors down. We can say that I was at Verdant making sure everyone was out."

"Alright, man. Now are you ready for this?"

Oliver nodded and together they rolled Tommy's body onto the improvised stretcher.

* * *

"Tommy," Laurel screamed again, her father holding her back from entering CNRI, Joanna standing to the side in shock.

Detective Lance looked over the half-collapsed building, hoping for his daughter's sake that Merlyn was going to walk out any second, and knowing that it would be verging on impossible. There would be few miracles that night and he had no idea if his daughter was owed one.

Movement to the side of the building caught his eye. "Laurel," he ordered, holding her by both shoulders, "I need you to stay here."

"What? Dad…"

"Stay here! Joanna, make sure she stays." He pushed Laurel into her friend's arms and ran to the ruined building.

"Over here!" came a familiar voice and Lance followed it to find none other than Oliver Queen's bodyguard dragging an unconscious Tommy out of the building on a piece of wood. A second look at Tommy made the detective's stomach roll.

"Oh God." He grabbed the other end of the crude stretcher and together they walked towards the street.

"He's still got a pulse," the bodyguard, Diggle he remembered, said. "Mr Queen sent me to look for Laurel, but I found Tommy instead. Queen's helicopter is on the way, set to head for the nearest hospital. There should be another two or three spots on the chopper, so anyone else you know of that is injured needs to be brought to the middle of the street."

"How did Queen know?"

"He didn't, but was in the Glades anyway, making sure all his employees got out of Verdant. When the first quake hit he sent me here and called the chopper," he made up on the spot.

Laurel's shrill shriek of "Tommy!" broke their conversation. Lance quickly set down the stretcher in time to hold back his daughter who came running at them. A quick look down showed Diggle giving mouth-to-mouth to the young man. Laurel swayed when she saw what was wrong with her ex-boyfriend.

"Laurel, you need to help Mr Diggle help Tommy, okay?"

She pulled herself together and dropped to her knees next to them. Diggle gave her orders between breaths and she complied.

"Joanna," he said, turning to the woman. "You and me, we are going to find the most injured people in the immediate area and bring them here. There is a chopper on the way for Merlyn."

She nodded once confidently and they split off in opposite directions.

Minutes later and the sound of rotor blades cut through the screams and sounds of collapsing buildings. Returning to CNRI with a sobbing pregnant woman in his arms, Lance noticed Joanna also returning with a kid holding her hand. He was also surprised to see Oliver Queen himself half dragging a limping man down the street. He watched as Queen's face closed off when he spotted his best friend.

"It'll be tricky, but they can land on the street," he shouted over the noise, pointing at the slowly descending helicopter. It landed and the co-pilot hopped out. Ducking, he ran forward and had a few words with Oliver. Nodding, he then gestured for Tommy to be brought forward. It was a tight fit, but eventually Tommy, Laurel, the woman, the child and Diggle – still applying first aid – were loaded on.

"They'll drop them off and come back as many times as the fuel allows," Oliver shouted over the blades to the remaining man, Joanna and Lance. "We'll need to have another load of injured waiting."

Turning back to the ruined streets they started to pull people out of the rubble.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Felicity slowly peeked out from under her arms when the deafening noise stopped. She couldn't see anything in the pitch darkness. Taking a deep breath she regretted it immediately as she inhaled a cloud of dust. Coughing, she gently extended her hands until she found the underside of the desk above her head. She swallowed nervously when she found the metal had buckled under the weight of whatever pieces of the ceiling had fallen.

Grasping around her on the floor and what surface of the desk was in her reach, she rammed her hands a few times into chunks of concrete muttering as she did so, but eventually she found what she was looking for; her trusty torch.

She mentally steeled herself before turning it on.

The foundry basement was a mess, at least what she could see of it.

The ceiling appeared to be structurally sound, or else she would have had the entire club sitting on her head, but the non-supporting bits had rained concrete down, ranging from fine dust to several slabs the size of her car. One such piece had hit the desk and bounced off, crushing both her computers and chair. She slowly crawled out, sweeping the area with her small torch. The stairs appeared to be fine, she would still have to check the side entrance, but the floor was riddled with rubble; lumps of concrete, pieces of now broken equipment and a few pieces of twisted steel.

Assessing herself, Felicity patted herself down just to make sure she was still in one piece. A few scrapes, very dusty, she had somehow hit her head and cracked her glasses, but alive. She ran a hand over her head searching for a bump, but instead found her earpiece.

"Hello?" she tried, but the technology appeared to be completely dead. Searching what was left of her desk and under the nearby rubble, she crowed her success when she found her purse under a piece of roof. Searching inside she pocketed her keys, replaced her cracked glasses with her spare pair – amazingly undamaged – and fished out her phone. A few taps later and she had established that while her spare glasses had made it, her phone had not.

"Okay," she said to herself. "I'm alive, I can't call anyone, but I have my keys and my wallet so all I have to do is get out of here and drive away, not that a police officer would pull me over to check that I have my license what with everything going on. Though the real problem would be whether or not my car is crushed." She frowned. "Wow, I even ramble when there isn't anyone to hear. Maybe I should see a therapist, although that spells 'the rapist' so maybe a psychologist or something...Okay, Felicity, just stop."

Carefully she began the trek across the room, walking around the debris but once or twice having to clamber over a pile that stretched the length of the room. Small pieces of the ceiling fell down occasionally setting an anxious atmosphere. She had to pause and calm down after she stumbled; scratching up her leg something awful and nearly dropping her torch, the one point of light in the room. She couldn't focus on the pressing darkness or she would lose what little control she had. She mentally pushed back all her emotions to deal with at a later time.

Setting out again she reached the stairs and eyed them doubtfully. There was a pile of wreckage at the base, and that was it. But if down here was this bad, upstairs could be just as bad or worse, she reasoned. She continued on to the side entrance only to stop in her tracks as she saw how bad it was, or couldn't see for that matter. The doorway was blocked by concrete and what looked like a steel girder. Turning back, she started to climb the metal stairs slowly at first and then a little faster once it was clear they were still well-attached to the wall. Keying in the code she gently pushed open the door. If there was something blocking the door from the other side she didn't want to think of what she would do.

The door swung open all the way and she took a grateful step forward.

At first glance the nightclub was fine. A few of the aesthetic cogwheels stuck on the walls were down, along with some light fixtures, but the walls and ceiling were still up, sans most of the windows. Glass and dust littered the floor, but nothing bigger.

It was the crunching of glass underfoot that alerted Felicity to another presence in the large room.

"Oliver?" she called out hesitantly, stepping through the door to behind the bar. "Diggle?"

"Afraid not," said a man's voice and Felicity's vision was filled with the business end of a gun. She gulped, comically she guessed as the man and his two friends laughed. The guy with the gun was wearing a shirt with a Harley motorcycle on it, the other appeared to be in a grimy flannel shirt and the last a simple hoodie. Locals out for a bargain, Felicity realised. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" Harley demanded.

"Felicity," she stuttered, raising her hands on reflex. "I work for Mr Queen."

"Then you'd know where he stores the good stuff, right?" asked Flannel Shirt, leaning over the bar and helping himself to a bottle.

"No idea," she said quickly, "I'm IT, not a bartender."

"Pity," he shrugged. "We'll just have to ransack the place."

"Hey, this is a good year," Hoodie shouted out, looking through the drinks under the bar and holding up a bottle.

"Hey, do you guys know what's better than a good drink?" Harley, still pointing the gun at Felicity, asked.

"Nah, what?"

"A good drink and a woman." He smiled wickedly.

"Oh, hey, hey," said Flannel Shirt, "that sounds like a party. We can drink to general debauchery."

Harley waved Felicity forward with the gun, "Take a seat on the bar, doll, and we'll get to you in a minute once we've decided which drinks Mr Queen was so good to donate to us poor Glade dwellers."

Felicity did as she was told, keeping her breathing even in an attempt to calm her heart. She thought she had been scared before when the ceiling came down, but no this, this was much worse. Her sense of preservation was starting to kick in though, the shock wearing off, and she started to take note of her surroundings and the three men. They were older than her, not in shape, heavy set except for Hoodie who looked like a strong wind would blow him over. She had a chance, she decided, and she'd prefer to go down fighting rather than just give up right now.

"You look a tad pale there," Flannel Shirt laughed, and passed her a full glass of clear liquid, vodka she guessed. "For the nerves," he winked.

They all moved forward, drinks of choice in their hands. Harley with the gun was in front of her, Flannel Shirt pulled himself up into the bar next to her and Hoodie was somewhere behind the bar.

"Cheers," said Harley and raised his glass.

Felicity raised her glass with the others, and then threw the contents right into the eyes of Harley. He screamed in pain and while the other two were distracted, she grabbed a bottle under the bar with her free hand and smashed it over the head of Flannel Shirt with all her might. She jumped down behind the bar where Hoodie tried to grab her. The hours of practice in the basement with Diggle kicked in and she let him grab her arm only to flip him over her hip with his momentum. He landed, the air knocked out of his lungs and stayed down. But before she could run, Harley recovered.

"Freeze," he shouted, gun once again trained on Felicity's head. She had no choice but to obey, and he stepped forward until the cold metal touched her forehead. She shivered and a cruel smile passed over his face. "You shouldn't have done that," he said and pulled the trigger.

* * *

Diggle found Oliver hunched over in a chair in the hospital waiting room. He looked up only when the bodyguard lowered himself carefully into the plastic seat next to him.

"How are you?" Oliver asked, noting the bloodstains on the man's clothes in the bright fluorescent lights, as well as the white bandages from where the staff had patched him up.

"Just a scratch," he laughed humourlessly. "How's Tommy?"

"No idea. Laurel said they rushed him away as soon as he got here and she hasn't heard anything since." He took a second to look at the most complicated woman in his life on the other side of the room, staring into the distance with Joanna at her side. "I suppose that's a good thing though. You don't spend three hours working on a dead man."

"You did everything you could do and more, Oliver," Diggle reassured him. "If not for you he would definitely be dead. Now he has a fighting chance."

"What if I didn't do enough, though," he asked, bowing his head. "I mean, I thought he was dead already. Those seconds I did nothing could cost him his life."

"You fought for him, Oliver. That's all you could do, and now it is out of your hands." He eyed his charge with thorough eyes. "I swiped a few things from one of the supply rooms to patch up your shoulder," he said in a low voice. Oliver went to protest but Diggle cut him off, "I know you haven't and it's a miracle that no one's noticed the bloodstain showing through your shirt."

Oliver sighed in defeat. "I told them it was someone else's blood."

"Come on, man. There is a break room around the corner that's private enough and we can even get some crappy coffee at the same time."

"You had me at coffee," Oliver offered. They shared a smile and both stood up, asking the girls if they wanted anything.

When they returned, Oliver finally bandaged, Detective Lance was in the room.

He nodded at them but didn't move from the seat on the other side of his daughter. Seeing Oliver bodily haul over a dozen people out of collapsing buildings to load on his helicopter for the ten or so trips it had managed had raised the billionaire a few notches in his esteem, but not enough for him to like the guy near his daughter – a father's prerogative.

Nearly a full hour later and a doctor appeared in the waiting room. Everybody jumped to their feet at once.

"The family of Tommy Merlyn?" she asked, looking from face to face.

Lance stopped his daughter from speaking, no doubt about to argue they were as good as family, and flashed his badge. "We can't locate his family, but if you would be so good to tell us how he is?"

The doctor shrugged, too busy to argue the point when the man had a badge. "Mr Merlyn has some serious internal injuries and at the moment is in a stable but critical condition. He is currently in surgery, and will be for several more hours, but we are hopeful at this point."

"So, he'll be okay?" Laurel asked in a small voice.

"We are hopeful."

"That's not a yes."

"You have to understand he has some very severe injuries. We won't know until all the surgeries are complete and even then we can't be sure. But, it is looking good at this point considering the extent of the damage. I'm sorry but that's all I can tell you. We'll keep you updated as his surgeries proceed." She turned around and left the room.

Laurel sank back into her seat, Joanna following. Oliver, feeling helpless, started to pace the room. Laurel watched him for a few turns before she frowned. "Oliver, what were you doing in the Glades?" she asked. "I thought you would be with your sister, after what happened with your mother." She winced when Oliver turned on her.

He softened his expression when he noticed her wince. "I was making sure everyone was out of Verdant. When the quake hit, I immediately knew you wouldn't have evacuated, and sent Diggle ahead of me." He laughed hollowly, "And funnily enough, Thea was in the Glades anyway, chasing after her boyfriend."

"Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she called me a few hours ago when she got out. She's safe."

"You sure do have loyal employees," Detective Lance scoffed. "Coming into work when the whole area is being evacuated."

Oliver shrugged. "I didn't want to assume everyone had seen the news." Not that any of his employees had turned up at the club that night, except for Felicity. He felt cold all of a sudden.

Felicity.

He pulled out his phone and checked for any messages or missed calls. Nothing. "Have you heard from Felicity?" he asked Diggle urgently.

Diggle sat up in his chair and pulled out his phone. "No, just Carly. Nothing from Felicity since I reached CNRI."

"Wait, Felicity, as in Felicity Smoak?" Lance asked, inserting himself in the conversation.

"That awkward IT girl?" Laurel asked. "From your club?"

"Yeah," Oliver said distracted, quickly dialling her number. It went straight to voicemail. He tried again.

"Felicity does some IT work for Oliver and his club," Diggle explained while Oliver was dialling and re-dialling. "She had planned to do some maintenance tonight at Verdant and usually lets him know if she's not coming in." He looked over at Oliver. "She might have been in the Glades when the quake hit."

"She was," Lance admitted. "She was the expert I talked to about the device that caused the whole thing. Dammit, I didn't even think about her, I was too busy worrying about Laurel."

_I was too busy worrying about Laurel_. The words echoed around Oliver's head. While Detective Lance didn't owe Felicity anything, and was in full rights to worry about his daughter more, Oliver had promised to keep Felicity safe.

Oliver looked between the door that led to Tommy, a confused Laurel and a worried Diggle. Diggle went to stand, intending to let Oliver stay here and he himself would find Felicity, but Oliver gently pressed down on his shoulder and kept him in his seat.

"Carly would kill me," he smiled. "You've done enough, ring her and let her take you home."

Diggle nodded. "Let me know when you find her."

"I have to go," Oliver said to the rest of the room.

"What about Tommy?" Laurel demanded. "He's your best friend!" What about her, she wanted to ask.

"I can't do anything for him right now," Oliver admitted to them and himself. "I have to check if Felicity is okay, but please let me know if Tommy's condition changes."

It was Detective Lance that agreed. "Just as long as you let me know if Felicity is okay."

Oliver left the hospital with Laurel's gaze burning into his back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"You shouldn't have down that," he said and pulled the trigger.

Felicity flinched as she heard the gun click.

But that's not what a gunshot should sound like, she thought, it didn't click. There should be more of an explosion and pain and then death. She looked at her shooter and his confused look mirrored her own. Then it hit her, there hadn't been a bullet in the chamber.

She ducked behind the bar and scrambled for the door that led into the corridor. Her safest bet was back in the basement, because if the gun did end up working, she wouldn't make it across the open space to the exit. She made the right decision when a second later a bullet flew past her head, taking out a glass bottle. Three more followed, taking out bits of the wall and another bottle.

She dived into the corridor, and then half-crawled-half-ran to the basement door. Punching in the code, she got it open just at the shooter skidded into the corridor. Slipping through, she leant back against the door and slid to the ground after hearing the comforting sound of the locking mechanism. She shrieked and covered her head when three more shots were fired, feeling the reverberation of them hitting the door. Looking up, her torch still amazingly on her, the door appeared unscathed. Of course Oliver Queen would have bulletproof doors on his secret lair.

She shrieked again when she heard the sound of metal on metal from the other side of the door; like the sound effect for a sword being drawn from a scabbard. It took her a few seconds, but then she remembered what was in the corridor. Her attackers had most likely pried one of the metal pipes off the wall and slipped it through the doorhandle effectively barring the door and trapping her down here. They couldn't get in there, but they had prevented her from getting out.

Felicity took several deep breaths wondering if you could get claustrophobic in a space as large as the foundry basement. Her torch took that moment to flicker and die.

"Oh, no you don't," she growled, viciously shaking it and waking it on her hand. It came back to life. "Much better."

She ran through all her options, all the while listening for sounds on the other side of the door. Through the metal she could hear faint sounds of shouting and the clinking of glass bottles. After a time it stopped and she counted out a full five minutes before standing and trying to open the door. Every time the door would click open, she jiggled it mercilessly, and it would only move a few millimeters before clicking closed again.

"Okay," she announced, stepping back and running a hand through her mussed up hair, "you are officially trapped in a top secret hideout, as in only three other people know the location – and one of those people is hopefully hospitalised at this point – without a phone, food, water, electricity or an exit. Right. At least I'm wearing good underwear, not that anyone will actually say that when they find my dead and rotting corpse. I mean, 'Here lies Felicity Megan Smoak, she was wearing good underwear' doesn't sound like a good inscription, though my mother would be happy." She groaned, "Dammit, Felicity, get your head in the game, girl. Okay, food, water and an exit, those are my priorities."

Walking down the stairs she headed over to the lockers on the edge of the room, relatively unscathed because they had been against structurally sound wall. After opening three she had found a water bottle and some ridiculous health food muesli bars. Only then did she realise how thirsty she was. The first sip she spat out, taking the coating of dust out of her mouth, the next she kept small, not sure if she would have to ration it out. The she turned and reassessed the side entrance.

There was a steel girder across the entrance, but really she could climb around it. It was just the rubble, a few big concrete slabs and a lot of smaller ones that would be a problem. She just had to move enough that the door could open inwards with a gap for her to squeeze through. It was possible. Before she started though, she hunted through the mess of the basement to find some gloves and something to shift the weight. She lucked out when she found a crowbar, and didn't want to know why that was in the basement next to Oliver's arrows. She also contemplated using one of his explosive arrows when she came across one, but didn't know the blast radius or if it would just cave in even more of the ceiling.

Propping her torch up in a way that shed the most light, she started to work.

* * *

Outside the hospital Oliver borrowed a motorcycle off an unsuspecting visitor and drove like hell to the Glades. If Felicity had made it out she would have found a way to contact either him or Diggle. She hadn't contacted them which meant either she didn't have access to a phone or she wasn't in a position to use one. The drive, which was relatively short, was made long as Oliver pictured situation after situation of an injured or dead Felicity. The guilt gnawed at him – why hadn't he thought of her earlier. It had been hours since anyone had heard from her.

Arriving at the foundry, he was relieved to see that the building was standing, and not a huge hole in the ground. One situation was removed from his list.

He parked at the front when he saw that the doors to the club entrance were open, hanging of their hinges. He hadn't thought of looters. A new situation was added to his list.

Cautiously he entered, taking one of the torches the bouncers used and stored next to the door. Not hearing anyone else in the vicinity he jogged across the room. He headed to the bar and basement entrance but stopped short when the crunching of glass under his boots turned into the tinkle of metal. Crouching down he picked up the shiny cylinder, eyes widening when he realised it was dispensed bullet casing. Panic started to press on his chest.

Most of the bottles at the bar were missing, taken by looters, but that's not what caught his attention. There was a blood smear on the top of the bar and bullet holes riddling the wall behind. He jumped the counter, boots crunching on the glass. There was a broken and bloody bottle behind the bar which explained the blood on the counter. There was more blood on the floor, a much smaller amount, as though someone had been crawling on hands and knees over the broken glass. There was distinct handprint on the door out to the corridor and Oliver pressed his hand next to it. It was almost half the size of his palm. "Felicity," he whispered.

Running his torch over the corridor to the basement he noticed more spots of blood and shell casings, as well as three dents in the basement door from bullets. There was also a steel bar slotted through the doorhandle preventing it from opening. Only Felicity would have known how to get in there and they wouldn't bother trapping a body, he realised, running to the door and ripping out the bar. Punching in the code, he opened the door, shouting, "Felicity," into the darkness.

He didn't get a response and thoughts of Felicity bleeding out from a gunshot wound entered his mind. Shining his high-powered torch down into the basement he changed his thoughts to Felicity being crushed by rock, alone in the dark.

"Felicity," he called again, jumping down the steps and searching through the ruins of what was once his sanctuary.

His heart jumped out of his chest and stuck in his throat when he found her desk, mangled and crushed, a pair of cracked glasses lying on the ground.

"Felicity," he called desperately, searching the piles of concrete nearby. She wasn't there, which both relieved and alarmed him.

Heading to the second exit, the only other place she would logically go, Oliver noticed more blood spots, small but still present. He didn't know to what level, but Felicity was obviously hurt. He swallowed, ignoring his thudding heart. Where was she?

His question was answered when he saw a small slither of light from the only other door. He laughed in joy when he saw the discarded crowbar and shifted rubble – his amazing IT girl had gotten herself out. Climbing over the support bar that had fallen, Oliver gave a few hard tugs on the door, widening the gap so he could slip out into the open air of the back alleyway.

"Felicity," he called out, looking left and right. Had she gone far? Was she still even here?

He chose right, running down the alley, sweeping the ground with his torch, shouting her name every few seconds. He skidded to a stop when he reached the street and saw her car, a power pole nearly severing it in two from where it had landed on the roof.

"Felicity!" he shouted, hoping, praying that she would answer.

"…Oliver?"

"Felicity?" he called, spinning on the spot.

"To your left." His torch followed her instructions and focused on the doorway to a shop, looted hours before, where the blonde woman was huddled in the doorway.

He dropped to his knees in front of her and reached out to cradle her head, looking over her body for injuries. She was covered in dust, scratches, bruises, and grazes; over her hands, arms and legs and a single cut on her hairline.

"Are you okay?" he asked, voice breaking on the last word.

"I'm fine," she smiled confidently. "Just stuck without a car or phone. Sorry I didn't call, by the way. But are you okay? You were the one running around after bad guys."

It was too much. Oliver pulled her to his chest, hugging her tightly, pressing his face into her shoulder.

"Oliver?"

"I should be the one apologising," he murmured into her skin. "I left you there, Felicity, I forgot about you. I should have been there as soon as I stopped Merlyn, but I had other things on my mind…"

"Laurel," she said matter of fact. "You're her knight in shining armour, Oliver; of course you were going to run to her. She was in danger and you needed to rescue your damsel. It's the way of the world, the knight saving the damsel."

"You were in danger too," he said mutinously. And he didn't even save Laurel, Tommy did.

"Yes, but I saved myself, in case you didn't notice. Was a bit surprised at how _much_ I had to save myself from, but well I managed, even got to use that cool move Diggle showed me, so I suppose it was useful, you know so I didn't learn the move for nothing, not that the stuff you guys show me is nothing." She paused, "I don't like guns, have I ever mentioned that? They say that guns don't kill people, but that people kill people, but really it's just semantics because you're still dead anyway, though I wonder if that applies to arrows. Do arrows kill people, or is it the bow or the person shooting the bow. Er, not that you try to kill people, actually I think right now you're trying to save me, and that's the opposite of killing…and I'm going to shut up right about now so you can, you know, save me."

Oliver laughed and raised his head to look her in the eyes. "You don't even need saving."

"I need a ride," she pointed out simply. "Besides, I would never want a boyfriend that was saving me all the time, I'd feel like I was in an unequal relationship…not that you're my boyfriend…just a boy that's my friend, I mean a man, my man-friend, uh my friend man, no wait you're just my…Oliver." She screwed her eyes shut. "Can I go home now, please, before this gets worse?"

He didn't say anything, her words affecting him somehow, but he put off the analysis of how and why until a less convoluted time when his best friend was not fighting for his life, his relationship with his semi-girlfriend was less complicated and his mother was not facing jail time for the destruction of part of the city. He pulled her up suddenly, steadying her until she got her footing.

"My bike is somewhere around here," he announced, leading her back towards Verdant where amazingly his bike was still sitting untouched.

"If that's your bike, how'd you get here?" Felicity asked as Oliver climbed on.

"Someone else's bike."

"Oliver!"

"What? I was rescuing you, noble cause and all that."

She rolled her eyes. "I've never ridden a bike."

"All you have to do is hold on and trust me." He held out a hand to help her on.

She snorted, "Like you even have to ask." She climbed on with his help, hitching up her skirt to straddle the bike. "This is the bit where you tell me to hold on, then I ask on to what and you get to smirk and say yourself, isn't it?"

"Pretty much."

"Le sigh."

Her arms wrapped around him and Oliver looked down at the bruised and scratched skin, the guilt weighing down on him once again. He started the engine and she tightened her grip slightly and pressed her face into his back so she wouldn't have to see. It brought a smile to his face, because this was probably one of the only ways Felicity would ever be like any of the woman he had dated in his life. Squeezing one of her hands, he kicked off and started the journey home.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"How do you know where I live?" Felicity asked Oliver as she jumped off his motorcycle.

He chuckled, following her inside and up the stairs to her apartment. "I did my own background checks before I recruited you."

"Oh God, does that mean you found out about that one time where I…" she looked over her shoulder at him to see his smirk. "I'm going to stop now in case you did not find out about that embarrassing moment of my past…which is where it will stay…in the past."

His smirk merged into his first true smile of the night.

"Home sweet home," Felicity said nervously, opening her door and stepping to the side. "Not as big as you're accustomed to, but then again you were trapped on an island for-"

"It's great," Oliver said truthfully. The open plan apartment was a mix of bright colours, crazy patterns and quirkiness that mixed together to form a comfortable, warm place, much like its owner.

"Um, were you staying?" Felicity asked. "Not that I want you to stay. I mean I do want you to stay." She took a breath. "If you did want to stay you are welcome, but I figured you'd want to get back to your family or Laurel or Tommy. Crap! Tommy, how is he?"

"Tommy is in surgery. We won't know if he'll make if for hours."

"You should be with him then. And Laurel. Who knows what's going through her head, she'll need someone there for her."

Oliver thought back to the tense hospital room where Laurel was waiting, her father and Joanna at her side. The he looked down at Felicity who was sincerely telling him to choose everyone else over her. He'd already done that once tonight.

"Tommy won't be out of surgery for hours and doing nothing was driving me crazy, if it is okay with you I'd like to stay."

"Okay. Well we both need a shower," Oliver raised an eyebrow waiting for Felicity to stick her foot in it but she disappointed him, "so I'll find you something to wear and you can use the spare bathroom."

"You have something that will fit me?" he asked curiously as he followed her to her bedroom where she started to dig through her closet. He stopped in the doorway out of privacy. He did however note the stuffed toy rabbit on her colourful bedspread.

"Sweatpants and a t-shirt," she shrugged clothes in question in her arms.

"Why do you have men's clothing, Felicity?"

"Seriously, I do have a life outside of Hood business thank you very much." She saw the look on his face and took pity. "Those were to be a present for my dad, but later found out he'd put on the weight of a small horse since I'd last seen him. He's on a diet now. The bathroom's this way."

She led him to the afore mentioned spare bathroom then retreated to her own. Taking several calming breaths she tried not to think of Oliver in her apartment or Oliver in her shower. Shaking herself out of that mental image she completely bypassed looking in the mirror and ditched her clothes straight into the trashcan. Stepping into the shower was both a pleasant and a painful experience as she washed the dirt off her abused skin.

Eventually she left the shower and dressed in her favourite sleep outfit of yoga pants and an old t-shirt of her father's. Walking out of her bedroom she peered into the lounge area and didn't see the elusive billionaire anywhere.

"Oliver?"

She yelped as arms grabbed her from behind and lifted her up to place her on her kitchen counter.

"Oliver," she scolded, hitting him on the hand to make him let go. He stepped forward instead so she was trapped between his broad chest and the counter. And he was shirtless. "What was that for?"

"My turn to play doctor," he teased to which she scowled.

After his shower he had called Diggle to let him know that Felicity was fine and shot off a text to the same intent for Detective Lance. Diggle had let him know that Thea had joined the wait for Tommy at the hospital just as he had left with Carly. "She seemed very interested in the fact that you had left for a blonde," Diggle chuckled, "so be prepared for an interrogation on that front. Not that it helped when everyone else was a little confused as well. Tommy was still stable but critical, last I heard."

"Great," Oliver had sighed. "Thanks, man."

"Look after her," he had said before hanging up.

Searching her apartment he had found a fairly well stocked first aid kit and had re-bandaged his shoulder while waiting for her to finish her own shower. Now he had her sitting in front of him, first aid kit open on the counter next to her. Reaching into the kit he started to assess her injuries.

Soaking some gauze in disinfectant he gently cleaned out the cut on her hairline.

"Ouch," she hissed.

"Baby," he mocked but placed his left hand in hers so she had something to hold onto. "Tell me what happened tonight," he ordered as he finished that cut and moved onto her arms.

"Only if you tell me about your night after," she said, eyeing the bandage around his shoulder.

"Fine," he huffed.

Between gasps and exclamations from her cuts being cleaned out, and one particularly bad graze where she punched Oliver in the arm, Felicity told Oliver what had happened at the club, finishing with, "…and then you came to my rescue. The end."

By this time Oliver had had all her injuries cleaned and bandaged where needed. So caught up in telling her story, he had managed to stay close – virtually standing between her legs – without her getting flustered. She was even playing with his hands in her lap, concentrating on that rather than looking at his face.

"Will you tell me what happened?" she asked after the silence got too long.

A deal was a deal, so Oliver told her what had happened to him that night and even mentioned some of what he was feeling; when he killed his best friend's father, when he lied to his best friend, thought he had lost him and the immeasurable joy when he realised there was still a chance. "I was scared," he admitted lastly, "when no one had heard from you for hours. Diggle was going to come too, but I made him go home with Carly."

"You are such a hero, Oliver," Felicity giggled, "always with the saving; saving me, your friends, your family, the city. You're going to get a complex if you're not careful."

"I think you'd be there pretty quick telling me to knock it off."

"Me and Diggle. If it weren't for us I think you'd work yourself to death or do something stupid and get yourself killed or incarcerated. You almost died tonight, stabbing yourself like that. I'll let you heal some, but then I'm having a word or two with you about that, mister."

Oliver leant forward until their foreheads were touching, getting Felicity to meet his eyes for the first time that night. He really didn't want to do this, but he had to, for her sake. "You almost died tonight, too," he said and waited.

Felicity went to say something, closed her mouth, and thought for a second before the reality of her night hit her like a freight train. She crumbled, Oliver catching her, sobs racking her body.

"You're okay, Felicity," he promised, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "You're safe." After a while she was able to calm herself down and he gently scooped her up, carrying her to her bedroom where he placed her in her bed. She closed her eyes and snuggled into her sheets, curling into a ball.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asked her, crouching down to her level, smoothing back her hair from her face.

"You should check on Tommy," she said with an adorable smile, eyes and nose red.

"Do you need me to stay?" he asked instead, realised that Felicity would never make him choose her over his other friends.

"No, I'll be fine. My spare key is sitting in the glass bowl next to the door."

"What for?"

"I can't imagine you'd want to go back to the Queen mansion with all the paparazzi attention so you can crash here. If you don't end up spending the rest of the night at the hospital, that is."

"Are you sure?"

"Well if I give you the key you won't have to break in."

"You are truly remarkable, Felicity Smoak."

"Felicity _Megan_ Smoak," she mumbled, drifting off. Oliver went to leave, but she sleepily grabbed for his hand. "Thank you, Oliver." She blinked once and finally fell asleep.

He carefully placed her arm back on the mattress and leant down to place a kiss on her forehead. Finding the shirt and his jacket he slipped out of the apartment, Felicity's spare key a reassuring weight in his pocket.

He had a lot to work through, feelings and lifestyles aside. But once he got things sorted out he would change his priorities, because Felicity was clearly somebody who deserved more, if not all he could give.

* * *

**Thanks for reading.**


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